


A War He Must Lose

by Writingwife83



Series: Sherlolly Week ‘17 [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Friendship/Love, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 17:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: Molly Hooper believes London can no longer hold a place for her after the things she'd recently done, but Sherlock hopes he can change her mind.





	A War He Must Lose

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on tumblr for Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Day 5's theme "The Abominable Bride."

“Going somewhere?”

The deep echo of Sherlock’s voice in the back alley caused the small woman to halt and slowly turn. Once she was facing him, he could see the fear in her eyes. It occurred to him that she was afraid of _him_ and that cut him deeply.

“Suppose I’m not anymore,” she said bitterly. “You’ve come to stop me, I assume?”

“I have,” Sherlock admitted.

She nodded. “And is the whole of Scotland Yard out front then? Waiting to take me away?” she asked through grit teeth.

Sherlock approached her slowly, again noting her trepidation. “No, _Molly_.”

Her lips parted in momentary shock. “Y-you know...you remember.”

“Of course I remember, yes. Do you really expect that I wouldn’t recognize a childhood schoolmate who happened to have the same last name and unmistakable eyes as a rather short and slight, but supposedly male, doctor at Bart’s hospital?” He raised a brow.

Molly set her bulging carpet bag down on the ground with a sigh and crossed her arms. “You never let on,” she replied softly.

Sherlock agreed with a small chuckle. “Naturally. For three years I’ve carefully concealed, even from you, that I had any inkling as to who you truly were. Any hint of that fact could have altered our behavior towards one another, and therefore could have compromised your secret.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “It was hardly worth the risk, in my estimation.”

The glare she leveled at him softened, and she allowed herself a reluctant smile. “And here I thought that I’d disguised myself so well that even the great Sherlock Holmes didn’t catch on. But then, on the other hand…” Her voice dropped and eyes hardened. “I hated you a little for not knowing, or caring.”

He stood his ground cautiously, watching her as she went on. 

“I suppose it made me feel just as easily brushed aside and forgotten as I’d felt back in school when we were younger.”

“But you were wrong,” Sherlock stated pointedly. “I didn’t forget.”

Molly’s countenance wouldn’t be moved though. She set her lips in a hard line and looked away for a moment. 

“It hardly matters now anyway,” she said, her tone somber. “It’s all over.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Not for you, not in London.”

Molly frowned at him in confusion and perhaps even anger. “Yes it is,” she spat back. “I am a criminal on a number of counts according to the law, and I find it difficult to believe that there is any life left for me here. At least not one that I’d be willing to stoop to!”

“You should stay in London,” he said firmly. “And I believe that I could assist in making that possible.”

Her lips formed a little “ah” shape and she began slowly shaking her head. “I see...so what is this? Some sort of selfish plan of yours? Hoping to keep me in London to use me somehow? Probably hoping that I can’t possibly say no due to my current state of desperation!”

When he reached down to gently but firmly grasp her little hand, he was sure he heard a tiny gasp escape her lips.

“Dr. Hooper,” Sherlock murmured intensely, ensuring that she was riveted. “My desire to keep you in London is for _you_ , because I would like for you to have the life that makes you happy...because you deserve it.”

For a moment, she looked almost like she would cry. Sherlock considered the cause she’d recently rallied behind, and all that she and her friends had lived through and suffered, mostly at the hands of men. And often times it was men who should have been respecting and cherishing them. It was quite likely that it had been some time since Molly had heard a generous word from someone of his sex. Perhaps she was moved.

She blinked rapidly and then steadied her gaze again. She didn’t pull her hand free though.

“There is much that I deserve, but that does not mean it is possible at the moment,” she countered softly. “I cannot imagine my being able to reside safely in London any longer.”

His lips lifted a bit. “Then, please, will you allow me to explain?”

“Very well, then,” she agreed.

“Actually, my plan was that you wouldn’t just hear it from my lips. Would you be willing to come with me, Dr. Hooper? To meet with someone else. Because as little as I like to admit it at times, there is another who is far more suited to the particulars of protecting your life here in this city.”

Molly paused, considering his offer. “Alright, I accept. But we must go now. If I refuse this offer, whatever it may be, I should like to catch a train by the end of the night.”

“Not a problem,” he assured her confidently. “He is already awaiting our arrival, so this meeting should be rather brief.”

“He? Who is it?”

Sherlock smirked as he directed her toward the roadway and an awaiting carriage. “Oh I believe you will know him. He does, after all, occupy a rather _large_ role in our government!”

* * *

 

“Mr. Holmes, good evening, sir,” Molly quietly greeted as they entered the grand study and came face to face with Sherlock’s older brother. 

“And a good evening to you, Dr. Hooper. And perhaps we can make it a bit better,” the very large man said as he gestured across his desk. “Do take a seat.”

Molly sat, but her expression and body language made it clear that she was still on the defensive. Sherlock told himself to be patient, that her trust might not be won so quickly and easily. 

Mycroft Holmes said nothing at first, but simply took some papers out of his desk and slid them across to her. Molly hesitantly took them and turned them over to read. Her eyes instantly went wide as she looked back at the man across from her.

“W-what is...how did you do this?” She could barely speak clearly, for it was her name; her own full name that was printed on the documents that certified her medical education and license. 

Mycroft turned his palms toward the ceiling for a moment. “I have a number of useful connections at my disposal.”

Molly swallowed thickly and became nervous again. “What do you want?”

Sherlock spoke up then.

“He wants nothing, _we_ want nothing. This is simply a gift. There are no strings attached and you certainly are under no obligation to take these and stay in London. But, if you did choose to…” Sherlock glanced back at Mycroft, prompting him to explain further.

“You see, Dr. Hooper, I fund a rather large portion of the work, research, and education that is carried out at Bart’s hospital. That means that my word carries quite a bit of weight.”

Sherlock snorted.

Mycroft continued with a brief eye roll. “If a position of importance must be filled in the hospital, there would be no questioning my opinion on the matter, should I choose to voice it. And it just so happens that a certain Dr. Michael Hooper has recently had a frightful family emergency which requires a hasty relocation. It is rather fortunate, however, that he is not the only one within his family who has a medical degree.” Mycroft smile. “His female cousin specializes in the same profession, and I can personally vouch for her skill and character.”

Molly jaw hung slack as she listened to the almost unbelievable words. She turned to Sherlock, as if she were searching for answers, but couldn’t come up with the needed questions. Sherlock took the hint and tried to fill in some of the possible gaps.

“Dr. Molly Hooper is unknown in the city of London. You have no past, criminal or otherwise. At least, not to anyone besides any of your remaining fellow...brides. And none of them are likely to talk, considering the target they’d place on their own heads. The point is that you can start again, if you wish. You can be yourself, and apologize to nobody for it. You have our word.”

She looked back down at the papers in her hands, clutching them like inestimable treasure now. “And everything I did...you apparently find no fault in it?” She glanced between the two Holmes men.

Sherlock tilted his head in thought. “Conspiracy and murder...frowned upon, I admit. But all of your motives were rooted in justice, and that I can respect. Naturally, we would hope that your days of any criminal activity are now behind you.”

“Yes, I should hate to regret any help I agreed to give in this area,” Mycroft added. “No matter the justification, I cannot, even indirectly, be a party to the sort of activities with which you were recently involved.”

Molly nodded. “It was already done. It was all over and done with before I met with you two gentlemen tonight. Naturally once the secret was out, our little group could do nothing but go our separate ways. Besides, we had never intended to go on like that forever.” Her expression was a bit contrite for just a moment. “I know I couldn’t have.”

After a moment of silence, Mycroft cleared his throat. “Well then I must ask what your final answer is, Dr. Hooper? Will you be staying on at Bart’s hospital?”

Molly drew a deep breath, and Sherlock saw her fingers touch her own name written in ink on the official documents she held. She finally looked up at Mycroft and gave him a small smile. 

“Yes, Mr. Holmes, I will.” She reached across the desk and shook his hand. “I am rather speechless at this unexpected generosity, and I thank you for it.”

“Not at all,” Mycroft stated wearily. “I hardly had to lift a finger! And besides, it certainly wasn’t all my idea.” He glanced conspicuously at his younger brother.

Molly’s eyes shifted to Sherlock and he felt a new and pleasant warmth in her gaze which he was now realizing he could certainly get used to.

“Well! Now that our business is settled, I must admit that I need to be going. You see I have a rather large and important dinner to attend and mustn’t be late,” Mycroft explained as he began rising from his seat with some difficulty. 

Sherlock and Molly followed suit and she smiled at the elder Holmes as they made ready to leave. “How lovely. What sort of dinner is it?”

Mycroft grinned widely. “My own!”

* * *

 

The silence was thick for a while in the darkened carriage as it rolled down the bumpy London streets. Sherlock could feel Molly’s eyes on him occasionally, but she remained tight lipped for the first few minutes of the ride. Finally, after releasing a small breath, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Holmes- er, no, that is…” She faltered a bit and paused, and Sherlock couldn’t help but be intrigued by this very different side of her. She wasn’t playing a part anymore.

“Mr. Holmes,” she began again. “Please do not take my silence for lack of gratitude. I am very grateful, truly. But you must understand that for some time I have not been in the practice of accepting...assistance from a man. I have made my own way and am proud to have done so. So to feel as if a path was cut for me without much at all being done on my part, well, I can only describe it as a bit...unsettling.” 

Sherlock nodded, able to sympathize a bit. “Perhaps, Dr. Hooper, you may come to think of it not so much as assistance, but that you are simply taking what is owed you. You are taking what is rightfully, and what always should have been...yours.”

Molly’s expression softened a touch. “I shall try to see it that way, yes. Thank you,” she said genuinely.

Sherlock turned his gaze to the window, but Molly’s voice quickly drew his attention back again.

“How long would you have gone on as we were, Mr. Holmes?”

He drew a deep breath, taking a moment to think as he let it out slowly. “As long as you wished to remain concealed, I believe. I had no plans of prompting you to admit your identity to me. Hardly seemed fair for me to force such a thing. It was you who deserved to maintain control, since it was your own secret hanging in the balance.”

“And that wasn’t...difficult for you?” Molly further questioned very softly. “To remain silent?”

Sherlock could just barely make out her sparkling eyes in the dim carriage, reaching out to him, perhaps a little desperately, for the truth. He almost shook his head and said “no,” effectively ending the discussion. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

“There were times,” he began slowly, the darkness of the carriage allowing for a level of honesty that perhaps would not be possible otherwise. “That it was...trying. Perhaps during a difficult case or when you were clearly struggling through your day. Times I preferred to speak to you as a friend, to more candidly tell you how brilliantly you had succeeded in your career, and to remind you that regardless of how we behaved in our roles as indifferent colleagues, you always had and always would...matter to me.”

Once the words had begun flowing, he hadn’t quite been able to turn off the tap. Perhaps he’d said too much. But the moment Molly opened her lips in response, any chance of regret flew far away.

“And there were so many times I longed to hear it,” she whispered. 

Sherlock was beginning to feel very much out of his depth. God help him if Watson could see him now. He’d never hear the end of it! His heart began to pound in fear, not because he didn’t know what to say next, but because he very well knew there were many more words simmering beneath the surface which he had the undeniable urge to speak. 

He considered it a mercy when the carriage came to a halt outside the building where Molly lived.

Molly smiled shyly across at him as the driver knocked on the roof to alert them to her stop. Sherlock climbed out and went round the side to open the door and help her out.

“It seems I am now in your debt,” she stated earnestly while taking his hand and gathering her skirts in order to climb down.  
Sherlock smirked. “Precisely. Perhaps I am more selfish than I previously admitted.” 

She laughed and it was instantly like music to his ears. It had literally been years since he’d heard that sound, and all at once he realized what he had been missing.

“Not to worry,” she replied playfully. “Your selfless behavior can remain our little secret.”

It was then that he realized he was still clutching her hand in his, despite the fact that she now stood in front of him, no longer climbing down the carriage steps. Instead of releasing it, he impulsively lifted it, bringing it to his lips to press a small kiss to the lace covered skin. 

“Hooper,” he murmured in parting.

She looked up at him intently and the corner of her lips tugged upward a bit as she responded in a tone that matched his.

“Holmes.”

As she turned and walked up to her building with her bag now destined for unpacking, he couldn’t help but think that his name spoken on her lips now sounded worlds different when compared to the countless times she’d used it in the past. And when he tried to define the new and appealing quality to it, the first and most prominent words that came to his mind were surprisingly, warmth and _affection_. He could have said that the idea was repugnant to him, or at least that he was wholly indifferent to it. He certainly could have made such a claim.

But of course...he would have been lying.


End file.
